


First Comes Marriage

by TheIttyBitty



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Arranged Marriage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 10:12:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3377669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheIttyBitty/pseuds/TheIttyBitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Dean is crown prince of Winchester, and a political marriage is arranged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Comes Marriage

**Author's Note:**

> **Note:  
> **  
>  This fic is _not ___historically accurate. It’s fantasy so it isn’t necessarily set in any particular time period, I don’t know _that much ___about medieval life, I’m sure I put some things in that weren’t used in the same time periods, I didn’t even _try ___with the dialog I’m sorry I just didn’t. Dean says “dude” _a lot ___.

_First comes love, then comes marriage._

At least, that’s the way the song goes. But Dean is finding, as he grows older, that art doesn’t always imitate real life. Now, for instance, Dean is standing in front of his father in the man’s solar. John is sitting behind his big desk, looking stern. It smells of  smoke and mahogany and John is telling Dean that he has to marry. 

  
Dean always knew this would happen, or something like it, that his father would tell him one day that he needed to marry. But he’d thought he had time, he’s only seventeen for gods’ sake! And he’d thought, erroneously, that when it happened he would be given _some_ choice in the matter. That his father would at least ask his opinion, or consult him about his future partner.  
But no, he’s been completely blindsided here. The only consolation is that his mother is standing by his side, looking thunderous. She is _not_ pleased about this. She’s on Dean’s side, so at least that’s something. 

  
“He’s a _child_!” Mary snaps at John. 

  
“He’s seventeen.” John rumbles. “He’s a man, and he’ll do his part to keep the kingdom safe.”

  
“He deserves the chance to find love for himself!” Mary insists.

  
Dean clenches his hands into fists by his sides. He hates this, everything is out of his control. Everyone is deciding things for him, he’s getting married, he’s too young, he’s a man, no, he’s a child. They act like he isn’t even in the room. 

  
“Mary, you _know_ the Dunarin Treaty is important. A marriage between Dunar and Winchester is the push we need!”

  
“Surely there’s another way!” Mary cries.

  
John closes his eyes and slams the flat of his hand on his desk. “This is what’s happening.” He growls. “A week from now Dean is marrying King Charles’ nephew. I’m not going to hear anything else about it. I’m done talking about it, and so are you.”

  
Mary looks murderous. Her lips are pressed in a thin line, eyebrows scrunched, hands curled into fists at her sides. She’s about to tear into her husband. It’ll be one of their big Fights and it’ll go on too long and they’ll all be caught in the crossfire. No one wants that, Dean least of all.

  
He swallows. 

  
“It’s okay.” He says. The sound of his voice cracks through the air, promoting a stunned silence from both of his parents. 

  
“Dean, honey-” Mary starts. 

  
“No, mom,” Dean interrupts. “It’s alright. He’s right. This is what we need.”

  
His mother is aghast. “This can’t be what you want!”

  
Dean swallows again, this time it’s harder, and he can’t meet his mother’s eye. “We have to do what’s best for the kingdom.” He says.

  
John claps his hands together and smiles, satisfied. “See there? The boy has sense. What do I always say? He knows what needs to be done, Mary. I’m proud of you, Dean, you’ll make a good king once I’m gone.” 

  
“Thank you, sir.” Dean says, trying not to sound ungrateful.

* * *

 

Dean spends the next week trying to come to terms with the situation as best he can. It doesn’t really work, but he does get better at hiding his feelings on the matter. Mary is still furious, but the procession of select Dunarin nobility is already on their way and there’s nothing to be done about it now. To back out of the agreement at this point would be a grievous offense.

  
Sam is also on Dean’s side about this. He is incredibly upset that his big brother will never have a chance to find love on his own and, at the moment, is refusing to talk to their father at all. Dean appreciates it, he really does. It makes him feel better to know that there’s someone on his side. That said, he wishes everyone would just stop talking about it, stop bringing it up and trying to console him. It makes him anxious and jittery and he just wishes everyone would leave him alone, because soon he won’t be able to ignore everything that’s happening and the thought scares the shit out of him. 

  
His father does insist he learn about his future partner in the time he has left though, and Dean isn’t really sure how he feels about what he learns.  
He learns that the king’s nephew is a Duke, that his name is Castiel Novak, and that they’re of the same age. The last bit of information does make Dean feel a little better, at least he’s not marrying some wrinkly old man. 

  
He learns that the reason Castiel was picked for this marriage is that he’s the latest in a long line of what the Dunarins call Aether-Bloods. Dean doesn’t a lot about Aether-Bloods, but he knows it means that Castiel has magic. Being the nephew of the king _as well_ as being an Aether-Blood makes him an extremely valuable bargaining chip. King John is honored. Dean should be honored. He works to remind himself that he should be honored.

 

 

The day the Dunarin procession reaches them dawns sunny. A rider comes from the south and announces that the procession will arrive in a matter of hours. 

  
And, just like that, Dean’s can’t ignore any of it any more. He’s beset on all sides by menservants, his mother, even the steward. They bathe him, no matter how much he protests, and they dress him clothing made specifically for this occasion. 

  
He wears long purple breeches with gold threading and tall black boots that reach his knees. His tunic is a clean white, his doublet is purple with pearl buttons. His sword belt goes around his waist and John brings him the large, silver inlayed sword with the loin’s head pommel that once belonged to Dean’s grandfather. There’s a cloak too, a heavy golden thing that makes Dean want to lay down on the ground and never get up. A golden circlet goes atop his dark blond hair, and finally he’s done. 

  
At least he doesn’t stick out though, the entire royal family is dressed to the hilt and, standing in the courtyard waiting for the procession from Dunar, they make an impressive sight. 

  
Dean is hot and sweaty under all his layers, he feels heavy and trapped and tired. But, before long, the trumpets are sounding and the first of a line of carriages come rumbling into the courtyard from the town of Winchester. The carriages are beautiful, huge silver things painted with vibrant green vines all over. There’s about twenty of them, as well as carts, supply wagons, much plainer carriages carrying servants, and people on horseback. 

  
Once everyone comes to a stop, the nobility begins to file out of their carriages, with the help of their servants. At first, Dean isn’t sure which one is supposed to be Castiel, but then he spots him, and there’s no doubt in his mind, he just _knows_. 

  
The boy is dark haired and fair skinned, wearing so many layers of flowing silver robes that Dean is surprised he isn’t weighed down. He’s half hiding behind a taller man, ducking his head and looking like he’s trying to be invisible. Dean understands the feeling, and he feels a stab of sympathy when Castiel is pulled from his hiding spot to the front of the procession, where several other important looking men are becoming acquainted with the Winchester royals.

  
“Dean,” John says. “This is Micheal Novak, Duke of Lanques, and Gabriel Novak, Duke of Vernive.” Micheal is a serious faced, dark haired man who bows low to the king and kisses his hand. Gabriel stands much shorter, brown haired with twinkling eyes and a mischievous smirk on his face. He gives a dramatically flourished bow to John, who doesn’t seem to know if he should be offended or not. 

  
At some point Castiel gets nudged forward, and Micheal is introducing him.  
“My I present Your Grace with my youngest brother? Castiel, Duke of Elains, of the Aether-Blood line.”

  
John nods seriously. “You may.” He gestures to his own family. “My wife, Mary. Queen of Winchester. My oldest son Dean, Crown Prince of Winchester. My youngest son Samuel, Prince of Winchester.”

  
There are more introductions made, but Dean isn’t paying attention to them anymore. He’s watching Castiel where he stands halfway behind Micheal like a shadow, head still ducked. He has delicate features: long eyelashes, pink lips, soft jaw. He isn’t bad to look at, really. Not at all. Then, he’s glancing up, and he sees Dean looking at him before the other boy has the chance to look away.  
His eyes are a bright, clear blue, and they look sad. 

  
Dean looks quickly away, turning his eyes to a patch of bare grass on the ground a ways away. He can feel Castiel’s gaze on him now, but he doesn’t look back. Maybe he should, give the boy a smile maybe, let him know he isn’t alone in this, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Anyway, he looked at Castiel for a while, he figures the other guy should get the same chance.

  
After that, things are a blur. The two boys aren’t even properly introduced to each other before John is sweeping the older men away to look over and sign the accord. Castiel is left by himself with a bevy of servants, as well as a boy and a girl who look to be of noble birth. The boy is slender, brown hair and mousy features. The girl is small, she has sharp eyes and a pointed nose. Dark hair seems to be the norm in Dunar, as most of the Dunarins he’s seen thus far have been dark haired and fair skinned.

  
Dean feels like he should go to Castiel, talk to him. Assure the boy that he wants this as little as the other seems to, but he can’t seem to make his feet move. He can’t cross the distance between them. He feels heavy with the urge to run as far away as he can. Then Castiel is looking up and, once again, catching Dean watching him. Dean looks quickly away again, and makes his escape. 

  
He ends up in the kitchen, unsurprisingly. It’s nice there, a little warm maybe, but it smells like pie and bread and he can snag bits of food while the cooks aren’t looking. But, of course, just as he’s about to steal a roll that’s cooling on the the big rack next to the oven and hand comes out of nowhere and slaps him on the wrist.

  
“Ow!” Dean yelps. He drops the roll and frowns sadly. “I was gonna eat that.”

He mutters. When he looks up Ellen, the head cook, is pursing her lips at him.  
“You know you’re not allowed to eat the food before it’s done, and yet you insist on coming in here and pilfering. You deserve all the hand slapping you get, and you’d better be glad that’s all I’m doing!”

  
Dean sighs. “I know.” He says. He slumps dejectedly against the counter, and Ellen looks at him, baffled.

  
“That’s it?” She wonders.

  
“What’s what?” Dean asks.

  
“You’re just gonna give up? No arguing?”

  
Dean picks at a splinter in the counter, pulling it from the woodwork and rolling it between his forefinger and thumb. “Never did me any good before, did it?”

  
Ellen comes to lean against the counter next to him. “Well aren’t you just a ball of sunshine today.”

  
Dean rolls his eyes. “Well I’m marrying a stranger today. Sorry if I’m not quite as cheery as usual.”

  
“Could be worse.” 

  
“Oh, really? You’d know, would you? Your father is forcing _you_ to marry a stranger?”

  
Ellen casts him a warning look. “Don’t you take that tone with me, Dean Winchester. You are not too old for me to tan your hide, young man.”

  
Dean can feel his expression turning into a pout, but he does nothing to stop it. He just wants to eat rolls and complain to someone and Ellen is _not_ having it. Also, he knows she isn’t bluffing. She’s had to beat his ass more times than he can count, and his parents approve of it wholeheartedly. Dean grumbles. He’s sure princes in other kingdoms don’t get disciplined by the kitchen staff.

  
“Alright.” He says finally. “I’ll go.” He pushes off of the counter to start for the door.

  
“Now hold on!” Ellen says, reaching out to take hold of his elbow. “You can stay here. Why don’t you pull up a chair. I’ve got some stew finished, I’ll get you bowl.”

  
Dean finds a chair and pulls it up to the counter as Ellen ladles him a bowl of thick venison stew, and he feels a little better. Less like throwing up than he has all day, anyway. He lets the bustle of the kitchen sooth him, numb him, lets his mind drift.

 

 

The wedding takes place in the castle chapel, which really isn’t as big as it needs to be for the occasion, after all the documents have been signed. Despite the fact that only the royal family, the Dunarin nobles, and Castiel’s retinue are attending, there are still almost too many people to fit in the little church. The people in the back have to squeeze close together, some of them even stand.

Castiel has exchanged his silver robes for gold, and is standing solemnly across from Dean in front of the priest who stands behind the dais. He looks handsome, the contrast of the deep gold and the boy’s pale skin giving him ethereal air. He isn’t looking at Dean, and Dean doesn’t blame him. He’s looking at the priest, at the ceiling, at the floor, but not at Dean or the crowd. 

  
The priest is saying a lot of things about love and commitment that don’t really make sense in this situation and just make a knot well up in Dean’s throat. Castiel’s face is impassive, but when he and Dean join hands for the old man to bind the ceremonial ribbon around them, Dean finds the boy’s hands shaking. This is the closest they’ve ever been. Here, now, at their wedding, is the first time they’ve touched at all. They still have yet to say a single word to one another.  
But when the priest asks if Dean will consent to being joined with Castiel, he says, “I will.” Because that’s what he’s meant to say. And when the priest asks the same of Castiel, he says “I will.” as well, although his voice shakes slightly. Then they priest is telling them to kiss and Castiel looks like he’s going to start crying, so Dean just kisses him gently on the forehead. They’re supposed to kiss on the lips, he’s been told, but they’re both being forced into this and everyone knows it and he doesn’t want to make it any harder than already is.

 

 

The feast that follows is celebratory, but Castiel and Dean are both solemn faced. In the dining hall they’re seated side by side at the high table, to the right of the king. Micheal and Gabriel sit between Dean and his father, happily discussing the new truce with the king. Dean tries to focus on his food, and nothing else, but sometimes a bit of the conversation to his left filters in.

  
“So, the boy’s magic, does he have it under control?” The king is asking Micheal. 

  
Micheal dabs the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief before he answers. “The magical talent lies dormant while Castiel is still virginal.” He says. “It will surface once his purity has been taken in the marriage bed. We have a tutor waiting to train him once it manifests.”

  
It’s so weird, having strangers and _his father_ sitting there talking about Dean and Castiel having sex like it’s the most normal thing in the world, and he can’t help it, he glances over at Castiel.

  
The boy is sitting very still, hands clasped tightly in his lap, looking determinedly at his plate and nothing else. His face is bright red though, neck, ears, and cheeks the color of a ripe tomato. Dean suddenly feels very, very badly for Castiel. There are people on the other side of Dean talking about his virginity like it’s their business (well, he supposed it is, but he still doesn’t like it), and it’s horrible. He looks so incredibly embarrassed that Dean takes pity on him. He clears his throat.

  
“So, you’re a duke?” He asks Castiel.

  
The boy starts in surprise, when he looks up at Dean his eyes are wide and a little afraid. When he blinks, though, his face is back to impassive.

  
“Only technically.” Castiel answers softly. “I haven’t been to Elains in years. I’m… I was…. living in Winsgow studying at Chavace.”

  
Chavace… that sounds familiar. Dean thinks it’s some sort of college or… something. Then, he remembers suddenly, it’s a school for people who want to become a member of the clergy.  
“Wait, so you were…”

  
“Yes.” Castiel answers his question before he even asks it. “I was planning on becoming a priest.” His voice wobbles, and Dean’s stomach sinks. 

  
This kid has it way worse than Dean. Dean still has his home, all of his family, his country. Sure, he’s given up a bit of freedom and the option to get married to someone he loves, but he hasn’t even given up any dreams. He can still do almost everything he wants. Castiel, though, has given up everything. He no longer has his country, his family, his friends. Sure, his brothers are here now, but they’ll head home within a fortnight. He’s entering a strange land where he knows no one and has apparently been made to give up the life that he’d been planning on having.

  
Dean can't think of anything to say anymore, and he goes back to staring at his plate and pushing his peas around with his fork. 

  
When the wine is served Gabriel leans over Dean to talk to Castiel.

  
“Better drink a few glasses,” He tells his brother. “Get’cha loosened up!” He winks, and Castiel goes ashen. 

  
Dean watches as he downs three glasses of the potent liquid with trembling hands.

 

 

After dinner, the two of them are led up to Dean’s rooms, and he feels like he’s going to throw up. Micheal, Eve the Historian, and Dean’s friend Benny, a knight, are set to wait outside the door, to make sure they consummate. If there’s anything Dean is grateful for it’s that they don’t come into the room with them. He’s heard that in some countries they come inside and _watch_ , and Dean doesn’t think he’d be able to handle that. 

  
They enter through the solar, and Dean closes the door firmly behind him before reaching up to turn a nob on the wall, which makes the lamps flare up and flood the room with a warm light.

  
“This is, ah, this is my solar.” He tells Castiel awkwardly. He’s not sure if he should give a tour here or not, what he should do. He walks through the small room to the door on the other side. He opens it and steps through, waiting for Castiel to follow, he does quickly. Here is his bedroom, painted a deep green color. He has bookshelves lining the walls, stocked full, the floor is cold wood, the lamps flicker, there’s a jar on his bedside table that’s new, and Dean has a feeling it’s there for… ease. 

  
“Well, um, the-the dressing room is through there.” He points to a door on the right side of the room. “And the bath is through there.” The door next to it. “And you get to the garderobe through the bath.”

  
“I-I’ll just, get, um…” Castiel trails off, but begins to make his way unsteadily toward the dressing room. 

  
Dean sighs and unbuckles his cloak, letting it pile onto the floor behind him. His doublet comes off, and his boots. They lay in a pile on his floor. He takes his circlet and sets it onto a bookshelf by his head. He’s debating whether or not to remove his breeches and tunic when Castiel comes out of the dressing room. He has taken off all of his robes but one, a light, airy thing that looks much more comfortable than what he was wearing before. 

  
“This is the first time I’ve been able to breathe all day.” Dean jokes, but it falls flat. Castiel just looks down at his own clasped hands and says nothing. 

  
Dean swallows and moves over to the big bed with its canopy curtains.  
“Well,” He says. “I, uh, I guess we’d better…” 

  
Castiel says nothing, but he moves over to the bed and ducks under the curtain. Dean can hear him moving onto the bed, so he follows. It’s very dark inside the curtains, and it takes almost a minute before Dean can begin to see Castiel. He usually keeps his curtains open, but this… this feels like they should be closed. 

  
Castiel is sitting near the headboard, knees drawn up to his chest, eyes closed. Dean moves cautiously toward him, until they’re sitting face to face and he has no idea what to do next. Luckily, Castiel opens his eyes then. He takes a deep breath, lowers his knees, and begins to unfasten his remaining robe. His hands are shaking so badly, though, that he can’t seem to get the clasps undone, and Dean realizes suddenly that Castiel has tears rolling down his face. He’s crying, shaking, and Dean can’t do this. How do they expect him to do this? 

  
He reaches out and gently takes hold of Castiel’s wrist. Castiel’s eyes come up to Dean’s and he takes in a ragged breath.

  
“I-I’m fine.” He stutters. “I j-just need a moment. You can- you can go ahead.” 

  
“Dude!” Dean says, pulling Castiel’s hand away from his robe. “You don’t- we don’t have to do this.”

  
Castiel nods frantically. “Yes we do!” He insists. “Micheal said-”

  
“Forget Micheal.” Dean interrupts, and everything that’s been brewing inside of him since he learned about this whole business wells at the top of his throat. “You know what, screw Micheal!” He whispers loudly. “I’m not… I’m not gonna _force_ you, okay? We don’t have to do this.”

  
Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and his mouth twists into an unhappy shape, tears continue to drip down his face as his hands come up to cover his eyes.  
“It’s not force.” He whispers. “I consent. We have to.”

  
Dean shakes his head, even though he knows the boy can’t see. “You don’t want this.”

  
Castiel drops his hands to his lap and lets out a broken sob. “It doesn’t matter.”

  
Dean leans forward and he takes Castiel’s face in his hands. It’s weirdly intimate, but considering what they’re _supposed_ to be doing, it doesn’t seem too bad. It’s just so unfair. All of it is.  
“Yes it does.” 

  
Castiel opens his eyes, he looks so lost. Tears swim on the edge, ready to fall off and roll down his flushed cheeks. He sobs again, and then he’s throwing himself forward and wrapping his arms around Dean’s chest, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder. Dean holds him, this weird little stranger that he’s married to now. He runs his hands up and down Castiel’s back in what he hopes is a soothing manner and just lets him cry until his sobs peter out. 

  
Finally, Castiel pulls back, sniffling and wiping at his eyes with the sleeves of his robe. “I’m sorry.” He says softly. “I-i think I had too much wine.” 

  
Dean reaches out and brushes a stray tear from Castiel cheek with his thumb. “It’s okay, dude. You want me to open the curtains?”

  
Castiel hesitates, but then nods, and Dean moves the open the curtains and let what dim light there is stream it. He leans back against the headboard and closes his eyes, trying to let the tension of the day run out of his shoulders now that he can relax a little. He can feel Castiel watching him, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.

  
“Thank you.” Comes a quiet voice after a while. Dean opens his eyes, and Castiel is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, fiddling with his sleeves.

  
“For what?” Dean wonders.

  
Castiel shrugs, looking down. “I just… I thought you’d be different. And you- you seemed sort of… angry all night.”

  
“Well yeah,” Dean tells him. “Of course I was angry. This whole situation is fucked!”

  
Castiel starts a little at the curse, but doesn’t mention it. “What do we do now?” He wonders.

  
“What do you mean?”

  
Castiel nods toward the door. “They’re out there, listening for, I don’t know…” He blushes. “sex sounds?”

  
Dean snorts. Castiel is right though, the people waiting in the hall will be expecting… something. He’s not really sure what though.  
“We could try making some.” Dean suggests.

  
Castiel frowns. “I don’t know how to make sex sounds.” He admits.

  
“Well, you know, grunting and moaning and stuff.” Says Dean, although he doesn’t actually know either. 

  
“Oh.” Says Castiel. “Well, you go first.”

  
“Why me?” Dean wonders, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

  
“It was your idea.” 

  
“Ah, well, yeah. Okay.” Dean squares his shoulders and pretends not to be embarrassed. He grunts loudly. 

  
Castiel snickers. 

  
Dean frowns at him. “Oh, what, you think you can do better? Well, go ahead!”

  
Castiel immediately stops laughing, the tips of his ears go red again. “Oh, I don’t think I can-”

  
“Nope! It’s your turn.”

  
Castiel rolls his eyes, but he takes a deep breath and groans. 

  
“See!” Dean says. “Not so easy, is it?”

  
“I think mine certainly sounded better than yours.” Castiel announces. “More authentic.”

  
Dean grins. He likes this Castiel. Now that he’s not quite so terrified he’s kinda… spunky. 

  
“We should make the bed squeak!” Dean says, seized by sudden brilliance. He stands up and reaches out his hands toward Castiel, who takes them hesitantly and lets himself be pulled into a standing position. Dean starts to jump, pulling Castiel with him, and beneath them the bed begins to creak. 

  
“ _Oh_ , Castiel!”  Dean groans loudly. 

  
Castiel snickers. “Yes, Dean! That, um, that’s the stuff!”

  
Dean laughs. “Dude, seriously?” He whispers.

  
“What?” 

  
“Nothing, nothing.” Because this is fun and he doesn’t care if it doesn’t really sound authentic. 

  
They continue to jump and moan and groan, noises becoming more and more outlandish as they go. At one point, Castiel collapses in a fit of laughter and when Dean falls to his knees to see what’s up, the dark hair boy gasps,

  
“You sound like a dying seal!” 

  
Dean pokes him in the stomach. “Whatever, I sound good.”

  
Castiel shakes his head. Tears are welling up in the corner of his eyes again, but this time they’re because of laughter. “No, no you don’t.” He says. 

  
Dean has to retaliate, of course, and he tickles Castiel’s sides until the boy slaps at him and declares that he can’t breathe. 

  
They collapse side by side, heads toward the bottom of the bed. 

  
“Do you think we made enough sounds?” Castiel wonders, out of breath. 

  
“We’d better have.” Dean answers. “I’m beat.”

  
They’re quite for a while, and then Castiel says, “He’ll know.”

  
Dean turns his head to look at him. “Who’ll know what?”

  
“Micheal.” Castiel sighs. “He’ll know we didn’t actually… consummate.”

  
“Yeah, well, we can deal with that tomorrow.” Dean declares, he’s much too tired to think about it any more tonight. “They bring up any of your stuff?”

  
Castiel shakes his head. “I suppose they thought I wouldn’t need it.”

  
Dean sits up, groaning in exhaustion. “Well, you can wear one of my nightshirts.” He says. He makes his way quickly to the dressing room and slips out of his breeches and tunic and into a long nightshirt that brushes his knees. When he comes out, Castiel goes in. 

  
He dims the lights and climbs under the covers and, finally, lets himself relax. A short time later he hears the dressing room door open, and Castiel pads over to the bed. 

  
“Dean?” Comes his voice.

  
“Yeah?”

  
“Can I sleep in the bed?”

  
Dean opens his eyes and sees Castiel standing nervously at the foot. “Course you can, man.” Dean says. “What, you think I was gonna make you sleep on the couch or something?”

  
Castiel shrugs. He comes around to the other side of the bed and slips in, sinking sleepily into the pillow. 

  
“Goodnight, Dean.” He whispers.

  
“Night, Cas.” Dean responds, yawning.

 

 

Of course, Castiel is right. As soon as they leave Dean’s room in the morning, both in a pretty good mood, they’re accosted by their respective families. Castiel is whisked off by Micheal and Dean is summoned by his father. 

  
In his solar, John does not look happy. He’s sitting at his desk again, hands steepled in front of him. 

  
“I realize that you’re not completely happy about this,” He starts. “But I did assume that you would understand how crucial this treaty is, and do what needed to be done. Was I wrong?”

  
“N-no, sir.” Dean says.

  
John sighs. “Then would you like to tell me why the two of you didn’t consummate your marriage?”

  
Dean steels himself. “It- it just wasn’t a good time last night, you know? We were both really tired from all of the- the festivities and, just, you know. It just didn’t happen.”

  
John narrows his eyes, and Dean can tell that his father isn’t buying it. “You _will_ consummate your marriage and solidify this treaty.” 

  
Dean’s heart sinks. “Yes, sir.” He says. 

  
“You may go now.” 

  
Dean turns to go. He doesn’t know what he expected to happen. He just sort of thought that things would work out, that no one would realize he and Castiel didn’t actually do anything last night, that everything would be fine. 

  
Before he can make it to the door, his father’s voice comes again. “It’s really not as bad as all that.” He says.

  
“Yes, sir.” Dean agrees reluctantly. He leaves.

  
When he sees Castiel at breakfast, the boy looks pale. 

  
“You okay?” He asks when he sits down next to him. 

  
Castiel nods tightly, but Micheal and Gabriel are on the other side of Dean, so he isn’t sure he trusts that. He eats quickly, then asks Castiel if he would like to see the gardens. Castiel brightens, and takes Dean’s offered elbow happily.

  
The castle gardens are a beautiful sight, every flower imaginable, surrounded by hedges taller than a man. It’s huge and winding, lots of places to sit in the quiet or have time alone with your sweetheart. It’s the perfect place to talk.  
“So, are you actually okay?” Dean asks, once they’ve entered the garden.

Castiel sags a little. “Micheal is very angry.” He says. “Both sides are very eager for this treaty to be signed and he thinks we’re holding it up.”

  
“Well, he can just calm down.” Dean says. “We’re married, so, you know, that’s that.”

  
“Well, yes. But many people don’t believe that the marriage is official until it’s consummated. Since we haven’t you can still divorce me easily and in the eyes of my government we’ll basically have never been married.”

  
“Dude, what? That’s dumb.” 

  
Castiel shrugs. “Not all of our laws make sense.”

  
“Well, would it help if I promised not to run out on you?” 

  
Castiel turns his head to look up at Dean with a curious expression. “Why not?” He wonders.

  
“What?” Says Dean.

  
“What’s keeping you from leaving?” Castiel asks. “You don’t want this marriage.”

  
“Yeah, well, neither do you.”

  
Castiel shakes his head. “It means too much to my country. There’s so much riding on this, so many people counting on me. I could never… I could never let them down.”

  
Dean clears his throat of the sudden emotion that gathers there unexpectedly. “Same.” He says. 

  
“Ah.” Says Castiel. 

  
They walk quietly for a while, Castiel on Dean’s arm, and it doesn’t feel as awkward as he thought it would. Today Castiel is wearing a single, long blue robe, which is apparently the custom in Dunar. It matches his eyes and makes them look even brighter than they are. Dean thinks that he really could have done worse, husband-wise. Castiel really is very handsome. 

  
Then the boy is stopping suddenly, making Dean have to spin and catch his balance. Castiel’s eyes, when Dean looks, are glued to a patch of flowers nearby. 

  
“Are those… white roses?” He breathes.

  
“Yeah, they’re my mom’s favorites.” Dean tells him. 

  
Castiel drops Dean’s arm and practically runs to the flowers, going to his knees before them. When Dean comes up behind him he’s running his fingers lovingly along the petals of the one nearest to him. 

  
“These are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He says reverently.

  
“Do you not have white roses where you’re from?” Dean inquires, going to his knees next to Castiel.

  
“No, only red.” 

  
“Dude, there are so many different colors of roses.” Dean tells him. 

  
Castiel looks up at him, eyes wide and delighted. “Really?”

  
Dean smiles. “Oh boy, do I have a treat for you!”

 

 

They try again that night, in the half light of Dean’s bedroom. This time, Dean leaves the curtains open. Castiel lays down on his back in the middle of the bed with his eyes closed. He looks like a fairy tale, with his fair skin, robe fanning out around him. Dean goes up onto the bed to kneel beside him, but when he reaches out to touch Castiel’s arm, he’s stiff as a board. 

  
“Cas…” Dean starts. 

  
Castiel shakes his head. “It’s alright, Dean. I can do this.” He says, but his eyes are shut tight and he’s so stiff and it doesn’t seem alright. 

  
Dean sits back on his heels. “You know, I’m pretty tired. Why don’t we just go to sleep?”

  
Castiel’s eyes open, and he goes up on his elbows to look at Dean. “What are you doing?” He asks.

  
Dean fakes a yawn behind his hand. “Just sleepy, dude. Think I’m gonna turn in.”

  
Castiel’s hand snakes out, lightning fast, to wrap around Dean’s wrist. “You’re lying.” He says.

  
Dean sputters. “You don’t know that!” 

  
“You weren’t tired ten minutes ago.” Castiel declares.

  
“Look, Cas, I just- I don’t want to do this tonight, alright. I think we should wait a little longer.”

  
Castiel drops Dean’s wrist, his eyes lower to the bedspread. “Am I… do you not find me attractive?” He asks quietly. 

  
Dean stutters. “Dude, no! That’s not what I- that’s not the point! Look, I know you said you were alright but you’re not, okay? I know you’re not. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  
Castiel sighs. “Dean, I don’t think you’re going to hurt me. I… I trust you not to hurt me.”

  
“But I’m going to!” Dean insists. “You’re not ready for this and going through with it right now will hurt you and, you know what, I’m not okay with that!”

  
Castiel’s mouth has fallen open at some point and now he’s just sitting there staring up at Dean looking shocked. 

  
“I…” He starts to say, but trails off. 

  
Dean slides off of the bed, leaving Castiel laying there. “I’m gonna get dressed for bed.” he crosses quickly to his dressing room. 

  
When he come out, dressed in his night shirt, Castiel goes in. The servants brought Castiel’s things up today, and Dean isn’t sure if Castiel is going to want to bunk together or have a room of his own so he just had them leave Castiel’s things here. When the boy comes out of the dressing room, though, he’s wearing Dean’s nightshirt again. He comes over and slides into bed next to Dean. 

  
“You’re very kind.” He says after a while.

  
“You shouldn’t be so surprised about basic human decency, man.” Dean remarks.

  
“Nevertheless.” Castiel says. “You’re good.”

  
“How would you know?” Dean asks, a little spitefully, and he’s not sure why.

  
“I just know.” Castiel states simply. 

  
Dean huffs. “Yeah, well, you’re pretty cool too.” 

  
“Thank you Dean.” 

  
“Goodnight, Cas.”

  
“Goodnight.”

 

 

When Dean wakes, it’s still night, and it takes him several moments to figure out why he’s awake in the first place. The answer comes in the form of whimper from the other side of the bed, and when Dean turns over to look, Castiel seems to be having a nightmare. He’s sweating, hands bunched desperately in the blanket, making scared little whimpering noises. Dean scoots over close to him and places a hand on his upper arm. He shakes it slightly. “Cas.” He whispers. 

  
Castiel wakes with a yelp and a gasp, sees Dean, and promptly starts sobbing. 

  
“Whoa, whoa.” Dean says, rubbing he boy’s arm. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”

  
Castiel reaches up and wraps his arms around Dean, who finds himself pulled down into a teary embrace. 

  
“Alright.” He says softly. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

  
He can hear Castiel hiccuping into his shoulder and it brings about a wave of fondness that Dean is, frankly, not expecting at all. 

  
“Don’t let go.” Comes a small, broken whisper, and so Dean doesn’t. He repositions himself so that he can lay down comfortably, but he doesn’t let go of Castiel and the other boy curls himself around Dean, snuggling close. Dean thinks to himself, as he falls back asleep, that this isn’t bad at all.

 

 

The second time Dean wakes, it’s actually morning, and he feels much more comfortable than usual. Castiel is still curled around him, face in Dean’s shoulder, arm flung over Dean’s chest, one leg over Dean’s and… ahem… what feels like morning wood pressing against Dean’s hip. He’s very cute though, features soft and relaxed, snoring quietly, and Dean can’t find it in him to wake him up. In fact he sort of, kind of, maybe wants to kiss him… just a little bit. Just once, to try it. Maybe more, if Castiel would be up for it. Dean yawns and shifts a little, accidentally pressing his hip into Castiel’s crotch, and the other boy groans into Dean’s neck, which makes his own dick begin to take interest. He closes his eyes and thinks of the bricks in the garderobe, counting the memory of them, until his damnable penis calms down.

  
When Castiel finally wakes up he realizes his position and immediately turns a vibrant red. 

  
“I- I’m so sorry, Dean!” He says, working frantically to untangle himself.

  
“It happens.” Dean assures him. 

  
Castiel just huffs and trips to the garderobe where he stays for a good fifteen minutes, and Dean tries not to think about what he’s doing.

 

 

Dean gets a talking to again. It’s basically the same, except this time at the end Dean’s father points at him seriously and says, “I won’t tell you this a third time, Dean. Either you fix this or I’ll be forced to take action.” Which is ominous to say the least. Dean does _not_ want to find out what kind of action his father might take. But, then, he has already decided that he isn’t going to do anything until Castiel is ready for it, and that’s that. 

  
He does make a trip to the castle library, though, to dig through the dusty tomes and find out what he can about relations between men. Whenever it happens, he wants it to feel good for both of them. He finds one large, very informative book on a high shelf. It even has pictures. He hauls it over to a table in one of the alcoves and sits down.

  
He’s hunched over this tome when Sam finds him, with Castiel trailing behind. 

  
“What are you reading?” Sam wonders when Dean fails to hide the book in time.

  
“Ah, nothing. It’s very boring.” Dean tries.

  
Sam narrows his eyes, not fooled for a minute. “What is it?” He tries to lean over the table and see. 

  
Dean tries to quickly shut the book, but he’s not quick enough and Sam catches a glimpse. 

  
“Oh my gods!” He practically shouts. “Are you reading a book about _sex_?!”

  
“Goddammit, Sam!” Dean exclaims, shutting the book hard and pushing it to the side. 

  
“That is _so gross_!” Sam goes on. Behind him, Castiel has his hands over his mouth, shaking with laughter. 

  
“I swear to god, Sam!” Dean threatens. “If you don’t shut up I’m going put you into one of Ellen’s pies and I’m gonna bake it and serve it to all the guests!”

  
Sam rolls his eyes. “You’re so gross.” He says. “I’m leaving anyway.” He turns on his heel and disappears into the stacks of the library, leaving a mortified Dean with Castiel, who apparently thinks this is all hilarious because he’s laughing his ass off. His cheeks are tinged pink and his eyes are bright.  
When he calms down a little he comes over to the table and pulls the book over to himself before Dean can stop him. 

  
“What _were_ you reading?” He asks, flipping the book open. His eyes go wide. “Oh.” He says. But he doesn’t look away. He tilts his head a little in a curious gesture and flips to the next page. “So that’s how you…” He mutters. “Huh. Oh my.” He slowly moves to sit down on the other side of the table, drawing the book toward him. Dean just watches, a bit confused about what’s happening.

He’s about to ask, but Castiel is just so absorbed in it, he keeps making humming noises and saying things like, “ _Oh_!” And, “So _that’s_ how that works?” and things like that. It’s very intriguing. Dean sits down across the table from him and just watches the expressions that flit across his face. After a while Castiel looks up, he seems surprised to see Dean still there. A blush starts up his neck.

  
“Have you been watching me?” He asks Dean, who has his chin resting in his hands.

  
“Yes.” Dean admits, grinning. “What is it that you’re finding so fascinating, anyway?”

  
The blush on Castiel’s neck grows up toward his cheeks. “Nothing.” He says, shutting the book and drawing it toward his body. He stands up and starts down the stacks with it. Dean jumps up and follows him. As they exit the library, Gabriel is passing by. When he sees them he spins back around and whistles.

“You two weren’t getting’ frisky in there, were you?” He asks, pointing at each of them in turn and raising an eyebrow.

  
“No!” Castiel says, sounding offended.  
Gabriel straightens up. “Well why the hell not?” He wonders. “You need some tips? Having trouble figuring out what goes where?” 

  
“No, Gabriel!” Castiel snaps. “Don’t be a jerk.”

  
Gabriel presses his hands to his heart, taking mock offense. “Is this how you thank your brother for offering his help? Is this how you express your gratitude? I am…” He presses a fist to his mouth. “So proud.” He waves his hand near his eyes, pretending to be tearing up. “My baby bro is growing up.” He sniffs. 

  
“Oh my god.” Says Castiel, rolling his eyes. He presses past Gabriel and continues down the hall. Dean follows, and they both ignore Gabriel’s call of,

  
“I have some herbs that’ll help if you’re having trouble bringing your little soldier to attention!” 

  
Once they’re out of earshot, they both sigh with relief.

 

 

They spend the day in the garden, sitting among the flowers. Castiel’s whole face lights up when they’re here, and it’s something that Dean is quickly becoming addicted to. Dean plucks a white lily and tucks it behind Castiel’s ear and the boy beams at him, it makes Dean’s heart and stomach do odd little flips, and he kind of really wants to lean over and kiss Castiel. A lot. 

  
They sneak into the kitchen for a snack, but Ellen catches them. Of course, she readily gives Castiel the cake he was after, which is just unfair.

  
“How come he gets a cake and I can’t even get a lousy roll?” Dean asks. 

  
“Because he’s new.” Ellen explains. “And polite.”

  
Castiel smiles up at her and she reaches out to ruffle his hair.  
Dean gags. “You are _such_ a suckup.” He accuses.

  
Castiel waits until Ellen isn’t looking before sticking his tongue out at Dean. Dean laughs and pinches him in the side, but a little later Castiel lets him have half of his cake.

 

 

That night, as they ready for bed, it feels different, although Dean isn’t really sure why. They both slip into long nightshirts, dim the lights, and get under the covers. Then Castiel rolls over and snuggles up against Dean, familiar as you please. He lays his head on Dean’s chest and hikes his leg up over Dean’s. 

  
“Hey there.” Dean teases.

  
Castiel hums softly. “You smell nice.”

  
“Thanks.” Dean laughs. “Have you been at the wine while I wasn’t looking?” 

  
“No.” Castiel says, but Dean begins to wonder when when boy’s hand starts to trail down Dean’s chest. 

  
“Ah, okay.” Dean says, and he’s having a little trouble thinking because _now_ Castiel’s hand is trailing up his thigh. “So, what are you doing?”

  
“Nothing.” Castiel says, too innocently.

  
“Are you sure? Because your hand is dangerously close to my dick and you might want to watch that.”

  
“Oh.” Says Castiel. “I hadn’t noticed.” But it’s obviously a lie because seconds later he wraps his long fingers around Dean’s half-hard length.

  
Dean bolts upright. “Gods, Cas!” He exclaims. “What the fuck?!”

  
Castiel sits up as well, he looks worried. “Do you not want to?” He asks.

  
“Want to what? Am I missing something?”

  
“You _know_.” Castiel says meaningfully.

  
“I thought you didn’t want to- _will you stop squeezing my dick for a minute_?!”  
Castiel removes his hand from under Dean’s nightshirt, and now he’s pouting, for gods’ sake.

  
Dean clears his throat and starts again. “I thought you weren’t ready.” He says, although it’s posed more as a question. 

  
Castiel begins to pick at his fingernails. “Well, I mean, I wasn’t. But you’re good and you’re really nice to me and, you know, I was reading that book and…. I thought… It might be fun to try some of it?” 

  
“You… want to try some of it?” Dean asks incredulously.

  
Castiel nods. “I hadn’t, well, no one told me what it would be like. I suppose I just assumed the worst. But I was reading that book earlier and, well, it didn’t look so bad.”

  
“Wait, did no one seriously tell you anything about sex?” Dean asks.

  
Castiel shakes his head. 

  
Dean swallows. He wants this. He really, really wants this. He’s been trying not to think about it, but Castiel is _right here_ in his bed and he just said it was okay and… this is very good. 

  
“Are you sure you want this?” Dean asks.

  
“Yes.” Castiel responds, and he looks sure this time. 

  
“Okay, yeah okay.” 

  
And so Dean does what he has been wanting to do all day. He leans over and kisses Castiel. 

  
The other boy’s lips are cool, dry, a little chapped. But it’s okay. No, it’s more than that. It’s wonderful, and Castiel tastes like mint and then suddenly his tongue is in Dean’s mouth and he does not mind _at all_. Then Castiel is pressing him down onto the bed and climbing on top of him, a little awkwardly, but _fuck_ it’s hot. His fingers are pressed into Dean’s chest while they kiss, and Dean's hands are on Castiel’s hips because he’s not exactly sure what he’s allowed to do. 

  
They kiss for a while, until Dean is so hard he can barely stand it, his lips are a little numb and he’s kind of out of breath. Then Castiel is pulling back and Dean has a moment where he’s terrified that he’s done something wrong before Castiel says, “I want to try something.” And grins down at him.

  
Dean, good sport that he is, says, “Okay.” And then Castiel is sliding down his body and rucking up his nightshirt and staring at his dick. Dean watches as Castiel wraps his fingers about it and gives it a pull, which feels nice. He observes as Castiel gives it small, tentative licks around the base and the tip, which feels very very nice. When Castiel swallows it down, sucking hard and swirling his tongue around the head, Dean is legitimately worried that he might have a heart attack. He reaches the edge embarrassingly fast and he almost has to shove Castiel off before he comes, so intent is he on sucking out Dean’s heart through his dick, apparently.

  
“ _Fuck_!” Dean exclaims, panting, looking down at where Castiel is kneeling between his legs.

  
“Did I do alright?” Castiel wonders.

  
“Ha? Y-yeah. Uh. Yeah. You did good.” It takes a minute before he’s coherent again. “Where did you learn to suck dick like that?”

  
“I read a bunch about it today.” Castiel admits. He looks down at his hands. “Also, I may have asked my brother for tips.” 

  
“How does- you know what, I don’t want to know. Come here.” He reaches out his arms, and Castiel comes up to slot into them easily. They stay this way for a short time before Dean rolls them over so that Castiel is underneath. He takes the hem of the boy’s nightshirt and lifts it up, up, and off. He tosses it to the side carelessly. Castiel’s skin is smooth and pale, and when Dean runs his fingers over his nipples he gets goosebumps all over his torso. His dick is kind of average looking, but when Dean bends and takes it into his mouth it feels perfect. He sucks Castiel off slowly, and while he does he slicks his fingers with the jell-ish substance from the jar on the bedside table. He traces his pointer finger around Castiel’s puckered hole gently, only pressing in when the boy beneath him is relaxed and pliable. He works his finger in and out in a rhythm, then he’s pressing in a second, then a third. Castiel is writhing beneath him, and whenever Dean finds the spot, _that spot_ , he arches his back and gives a startled yelp.

  
“M-more.” He begs. “Do more of that.” 

  
So, of course, Dean does. Then he’s moving back up Castiel’s body and they’re kissing deeply as Dean slides himself inside. His thrusts are a bit uneven, he knows he isn’t very good, but he’s jacking Castiel off too and the boy seems _very_ into that. And then, he’s at that edge again. He speeds up his hand and he leans down to suck at the sensitive skin on Castiel’s throat and he’s coming, he can’t help it. He gives one last, hard thrust, and he goes still as he comes inside Castiel. After a moment he starts moving his hand again and then Castiel is coming all over Dean’s hand and his own stomach. 

  
Then, something odd happens. There’s an enormous pulse of power from Castiel’s chest. It ripples outward and, while it ignores Dean, it makes every one of the lamps in the room explode. 

  
“What was that?” Dean gasps, collapsing next to Castiel. 

  
“My magic.” Castiel explains, wetting his lips with his tongue. “It just manifested.”

  
“Cool.” Dean says. 

  
“Heh.” Says Castiel.

 

 

The next morning they find that Castiel apparently blew out all the lamps in the castle. No one is mad though, because they all know what it means, to Dean’s dismay. 

  
John gives him a pat on the back and a “Well done.”, Castiel gets a smile from Micheal, and they both get an enthusiastic thumbs-up from Gabriel. 

  
The Dunarin nobility leaves the next day, and Castiel cries, but they promise to visit, and Dean promises that the two of them can visit Dunar, and Castiel smiles at him. And maybe it’s too soon for Dean to be in love, but he can’t help feeling like he really lucked out, because Castiel has the most wonderful smile he’s ever seen, and the nicest eyes, and the gentlest hands. He thinks to himself that this could really work.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is [here](https://deanlightful.tumblr.com/).


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